


Merciless

by alltoseek



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Filk, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:52:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love of flying has a dark side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merciless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessamyGriffith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessamyGriffith/gifts).
  * Inspired by [La Belle Dame Sans Merci](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/33420) by John Keats. 



> _With apologies to Keats_

I.

O WHAT can ail thee, pilot-in-hat,  
Alone and pale you loiter?  
The port has closed for the night,  
And no planes roar.

II.

O what can ail thee, pilot-in-hat!  
So haggard and so woe-begone?  
The hotel’s rooms are all full,  
And the trav'ling's done.

III.

I see fog and clouds on thy brow  
With anguish moist and fever dew,  
And on thy cheeks a fading sun  
Fast setteth too.

IV.

I met an angel in the air,  
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,  
Her flight was long, her wings were light,  
And her eyes were wild.

V.

I made a windscreen about her head,  
And engines too, and tail to steer;  
She look’d at me as she did love,  
And flew sweet clear.

VI.

I made her be my flying craft,  
And nothing else saw day and night,  
For headlong would she soar, and flew  
A faery’s flight.

VII.

She found me clouds of fluffy white,  
And winds so mild, and rain like dew,  
Without language yet I understood—  
“I love thee true.”

VIII.

She took me to her elfin port,  
And there she leak'd, and groan’d full sore,  
And there I shut her windscreen eyes  
With CPLs four.

IX.

And there she lulled me asleep,  
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!  
The latest dream I ever dream’d  
On the cold port’s side.

X.

I saw wan captains and off'cers too,  
Pale pilots, death-pale were they all;  
They cried—“L'Avion sans Merci  
Hath thee in thrall!”

XI.

I saw their empty hands in the gloam,  
With horrid warning gaped wide,  
And I awoke and found me here,  
On the cold port’s side.

XII.

And this is why I sojourn here,  
Alone and pale I loiter,  
Though the port is closed for the night,  
And no planes roar.


End file.
